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mad_andyYup, another ficlet complete. This one for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hanks_lil_pit - and I had to pare a little over 200 words off it to bring it to the thousand, which has caused me to swear mightily. So, without further ado:
Title: Perfect Gentleman
Fandom: Helloween/Metallica
Pairing: Sascha/James
Rating: R
Summary: A guitar show drives James nuts - until he's rescued.
Perfect Gentleman
It was all Lars’ fault.
He hated photographers; ‘look this way’, ‘over here James’, ‘hold the guitar higher, please’, ‘smile, James!’
Bah.
Namm is in San Fran this year, James. We can do with the publicity, James. You’re the big name, not Kirk, James... get your ass to the guitar show, James!
So here he was, smiling as he took his leave, more grateful than he’d care to admit to be fleeing to the green room. And so help him if anybody bothered him in there he would--
The first thing that struck him as he slipped through the door was the voice, chattering away in strongly accented english; something about a couple of roadies and a fight over a girl. James grabbed a bottle of water and leaned on the wall to watch; the kid - well, not quite a kid but frighteningly young - was waving his arms and laughing as he reached the punchline.
James chuckled and the kid turned, grey green eyes widening with surprise and recognition.
“James Hetfield?”
James nodded, made a sort of affirmative rumble at the back of his throat. The kid grinned, stuck his hand out.
“Sascha Gerstner.”
He shook his head, and the kid laughed again. “I am not surprised - never heard of me, right? Helloween. German band? Power metal?”
The eyes were almost pleading now; it would have been churlish not to have shaken his hand, grinned. The kid nodded.
“Good. Now I am sure you have things to do, so--”
What?
His eyes must have shown his surprise because the kid flushed and dropped his gaze, flicking it up shyly through his fringe. “I am sorry. I thought you would have had enough of, you know, people.”
James chuckled, charmed by naivete. Had he ever been that young?
He supposed he had.
Even so, it didn’t take much to draw the kid out; the guy he’d been talking to was his guitar tech, this was his first trip to San Fran, he was terribly excited, here to support his guitar manufacturer...stuff. Small talk. And all the way through those beautiful eyes beguiled, laughed, caressed, now hidden by the black fringe of hair, then revealed.
“Sascha? Sascha! I’m going back to the hotel - you coming?”
“Not yet,” breathed the kid with a wink. Hello?
He turned to his tech before James could react. “Eh, I suppose--”
“I could give you a tour,” James heard himself say. “If you like.”
Those eyes! “I’d like, yes. If it’s not too much trouble?”
The other man rolled his eyes and left. Oh yes? Subtexts here. Maybe the kid wasn’t quite as innocent as he appeared - hell, who was? James slung an arm around Sascha’s shoulders and grinned.
“You ever been on a motorcycle before?”
~*~
It didn’t take long to scare up a helmet for him and, once he’d checked that his duties were over, drag him to the garage where his bike was. Lars had moaned about that, too; but hell, if he had to go to the damn show he was at least going to have fun getting there.
“Nice,” said Sascha, and James could feel his chest puff up with pride. The kid elbowed him gently and snorted.
James swung astride the bike and Sascha hopped on, snuggling into him, chuckling.
“What?”
“Leather,” grinned the kid, burying his nose in James’ shoulder and snuffling.
“Pervert,” replied James with a laugh, and swung the bike out onto the street with a roar.
And when he felt an unmistakeable bulge rubbing his ass he took a chance, sliding his hand along Sascha’s thigh a time or two to gauge the reaction. He was rewarded with a tightening of arms around his waist, as well as another rub of that bulge against his backside. Perfect.
The viewpoint was deserted when they arrived. It was getting dark, and he grinned as the kid ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the sparkling vista of the city below them, bridges twinkling through the gloom like giant, spangled spiders webs. Sascha walked back, stood between his legs where he perched, sidesaddle, on the bike.
“I have to say thank you,” he said with a shy smile.
James took a chance, and put his hands on the kid’s hips, pulling him in until their crotches touched. “Oh yes?”
Sascha hissed, rubbing himself on James, then leaned in and dropped a swift kiss on his lips. “Yes,” he said.
Eyes alight, Sascha’s long fingers began to fumble with the catch and zippers on James’ - leather - jeans. Dropping to his knees, he pushed his face into the hide and sniffed, groaning at the commingled scents of sweat, man, and cowhide; James shuffled his feet a little further apart, gripped the kid’s shoulders, sighing when he felt himself swallowed down.
Jesus. Jesus. This kid sure knew what he was doing; teasing and tantalising with his touch, his breath, fingers and tongue and just a tiny bit of teeth, not enough to hurt but just enough to spice the pleasure with a little pain. He wrapped one hand in the thick black hair, tugging on the silky strands and closing his eyes with the sheer pleasure of it all.
He wondered what would happen if anyone stopped, an elderly couple, perhaps. What would they make of the trembling figure of the older man getting a blowjob from the pretty boy? The thought tipped him over the edge, and he felt Sascha’s throat constrict around him as he came.
Panting, he grinned at him as he sat back on his heels, licking his lips even as he zipped up, then standing in his arms. He kissed him, tasting himself in the kid’s mouth, swiping his tongue over the pouty lower lip.
Sascha grinned.
“So, how about you show me some more of the city?”
“Like?”
“Your house?”
As he kicked the bike into life and began the long ride back into the city, James reflected that he really ought to listen to Lars more often.
*Phew*
You likee?
ETA: Oh, and in case you're wondering? This is Sascha:
Yow!
hanks_lil_pit - and I had to pare a little over 200 words off it to bring it to the thousand, which has caused me to swear mightily. So, without further ado:Title: Perfect Gentleman
Fandom: Helloween/Metallica
Pairing: Sascha/James
Rating: R
Summary: A guitar show drives James nuts - until he's rescued.
Perfect Gentleman
It was all Lars’ fault.
He hated photographers; ‘look this way’, ‘over here James’, ‘hold the guitar higher, please’, ‘smile, James!’
Bah.
Namm is in San Fran this year, James. We can do with the publicity, James. You’re the big name, not Kirk, James... get your ass to the guitar show, James!
So here he was, smiling as he took his leave, more grateful than he’d care to admit to be fleeing to the green room. And so help him if anybody bothered him in there he would--
The first thing that struck him as he slipped through the door was the voice, chattering away in strongly accented english; something about a couple of roadies and a fight over a girl. James grabbed a bottle of water and leaned on the wall to watch; the kid - well, not quite a kid but frighteningly young - was waving his arms and laughing as he reached the punchline.
James chuckled and the kid turned, grey green eyes widening with surprise and recognition.
“James Hetfield?”
James nodded, made a sort of affirmative rumble at the back of his throat. The kid grinned, stuck his hand out.
“Sascha Gerstner.”
He shook his head, and the kid laughed again. “I am not surprised - never heard of me, right? Helloween. German band? Power metal?”
The eyes were almost pleading now; it would have been churlish not to have shaken his hand, grinned. The kid nodded.
“Good. Now I am sure you have things to do, so--”
What?
His eyes must have shown his surprise because the kid flushed and dropped his gaze, flicking it up shyly through his fringe. “I am sorry. I thought you would have had enough of, you know, people.”
James chuckled, charmed by naivete. Had he ever been that young?
He supposed he had.
Even so, it didn’t take much to draw the kid out; the guy he’d been talking to was his guitar tech, this was his first trip to San Fran, he was terribly excited, here to support his guitar manufacturer...stuff. Small talk. And all the way through those beautiful eyes beguiled, laughed, caressed, now hidden by the black fringe of hair, then revealed.
“Sascha? Sascha! I’m going back to the hotel - you coming?”
“Not yet,” breathed the kid with a wink. Hello?
He turned to his tech before James could react. “Eh, I suppose--”
“I could give you a tour,” James heard himself say. “If you like.”
Those eyes! “I’d like, yes. If it’s not too much trouble?”
The other man rolled his eyes and left. Oh yes? Subtexts here. Maybe the kid wasn’t quite as innocent as he appeared - hell, who was? James slung an arm around Sascha’s shoulders and grinned.
“You ever been on a motorcycle before?”
~*~
It didn’t take long to scare up a helmet for him and, once he’d checked that his duties were over, drag him to the garage where his bike was. Lars had moaned about that, too; but hell, if he had to go to the damn show he was at least going to have fun getting there.
“Nice,” said Sascha, and James could feel his chest puff up with pride. The kid elbowed him gently and snorted.
James swung astride the bike and Sascha hopped on, snuggling into him, chuckling.
“What?”
“Leather,” grinned the kid, burying his nose in James’ shoulder and snuffling.
“Pervert,” replied James with a laugh, and swung the bike out onto the street with a roar.
And when he felt an unmistakeable bulge rubbing his ass he took a chance, sliding his hand along Sascha’s thigh a time or two to gauge the reaction. He was rewarded with a tightening of arms around his waist, as well as another rub of that bulge against his backside. Perfect.
The viewpoint was deserted when they arrived. It was getting dark, and he grinned as the kid ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the sparkling vista of the city below them, bridges twinkling through the gloom like giant, spangled spiders webs. Sascha walked back, stood between his legs where he perched, sidesaddle, on the bike.
“I have to say thank you,” he said with a shy smile.
James took a chance, and put his hands on the kid’s hips, pulling him in until their crotches touched. “Oh yes?”
Sascha hissed, rubbing himself on James, then leaned in and dropped a swift kiss on his lips. “Yes,” he said.
Eyes alight, Sascha’s long fingers began to fumble with the catch and zippers on James’ - leather - jeans. Dropping to his knees, he pushed his face into the hide and sniffed, groaning at the commingled scents of sweat, man, and cowhide; James shuffled his feet a little further apart, gripped the kid’s shoulders, sighing when he felt himself swallowed down.
Jesus. Jesus. This kid sure knew what he was doing; teasing and tantalising with his touch, his breath, fingers and tongue and just a tiny bit of teeth, not enough to hurt but just enough to spice the pleasure with a little pain. He wrapped one hand in the thick black hair, tugging on the silky strands and closing his eyes with the sheer pleasure of it all.
He wondered what would happen if anyone stopped, an elderly couple, perhaps. What would they make of the trembling figure of the older man getting a blowjob from the pretty boy? The thought tipped him over the edge, and he felt Sascha’s throat constrict around him as he came.
Panting, he grinned at him as he sat back on his heels, licking his lips even as he zipped up, then standing in his arms. He kissed him, tasting himself in the kid’s mouth, swiping his tongue over the pouty lower lip.
Sascha grinned.
“So, how about you show me some more of the city?”
“Like?”
“Your house?”
As he kicked the bike into life and began the long ride back into the city, James reflected that he really ought to listen to Lars more often.
*Phew*
You likee?
ETA: Oh, and in case you're wondering? This is Sascha:
Yow!
